Guilty Until Proven Innocent
by Wickedgal08
Summary: Recently released from prison for a crime she didn't commit, Elena returns to Mystic Falls to clear her name to the people who matter, one of whom includes a blue eyed, raven haired man who once stole her heart, but will he listen to her after believing for two years she was the sole reason his family fell apart? DE. Angst aplenty. Rated M for excessive language and future smut.
1. Prologue

Guilty Until Proven Innocent

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Summary: Recently released from prison for a crime she didn't commit, Elena returns to Mystic Falls to clear her name to the people who matter, one of whom includes a blue eyed, raven haired man who once stole her heart, but will he listen to her after believing for two years she was the sole reason his family fell apart? DE. Angst aplenty. Rated M for excessive language and future smut. Wanted to try something different with these two, something that varies a little from the collection of AU/AH DE stories out there so here we go. This'll be a fairly short prologue but the proceeding chapters will be longer.

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Prologue

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There was something exhilarating about laying all your cards on the table and then walking away regardless of the hand you had left behind.

She almost would miss the drama she was leaving behind - almost. She would be leaving behind bigots who'd watched her grow up, watched her blossom into the girl with the sweetest smile and the rosiest cheeks, only to give her the cold shoulder when bitter lies tainted her good girl image. What was there to miss about that?

"Elena!"

She ignored his shouts as she thundered ahead, pulling her suitcase along on its back wheels, determined not to let his velvet voice soften the walls she'd built around her heart. She could hear him running, but he wouldn't catch her. Not when her train was in view, the board stating it would be ready to go in five minutes.

Unfortunately, however, she had always underestimated the way he could sneak up on her when her mind was otherwise engaged. Her mind was trying to formulate a plan of action, laying out a step-by-step guide into her new life, and it was during this moment of fierce planning she felt her pace slow, which he took full advantage of. She felt his hand grip her shoulder, preventing her from moving, and she whirled around, furious, her eyes blazing, and even the look in his eyes wasn't enough to make her stay – not this time.

"We have to talk about this," he said, when he was sure he had her attention.

"What's there to talk about?" she fired at him, shrugging his hand off. "Let me catch my train, Damon."

"Where are you gonna go? Mystic Falls is your home," he desperately reasoned.

"Ha!" she yelled, throwing back her head and laughing maniacally. "I'm sorry, but that's the funniest thing I've heard since the jury read out my verdict!" She didn't even care that that remark caused him to flinch – he hadn't spent two years hurting over a series of false lies after all. "It's never been my home – not really. I don't even know who I'm angrier at anymore – you or them. I can't call it home anymore, Damon. Home is where you go to get away from all the drama, not be surrounded by it every minute of the day."

"So you're just gonna run away?" He sounded angry; his blue eyes blazed just as fiercely as hers. "And go where exactly? Criminal records don't disappear just because you do."

She turned around and slapped him hard, pouring every ounce of anger and resentment she'd held onto into the motion.

"You bastard," she growled. "I shouldn't even have a criminal record in the first place! It's gonna haunt me for the rest of my life, follow me to every job interview, cost me the trust of people I want to work for, and I have to deal with that! I don't suppose there are many cases of wrongful imprisonment in this world, but I imagine all their stories end exactly the same as mine has. Suspicion follows you forever, Damon, even if you're later proved innocent. That's not what I'm concerned with anymore."

"What _are_ you concerned with then? Enlighten me!"

"I _loved _you," she screamed at him, not even caring that their row was drawing a crowd. "And you broke my heart! And then when I finally got to talk to you, when I finally got everything I was still hurting over off my chest, you told me it didn't change anything, that you were still pissed that I'd wrecked your family when, newsflash, it was already screwed up before any of that shit happened!"

He reeled back, visibly stunned.

"You don't get to say shit like that, Elena. You were once part of that family as I recall!"

"Yeah, and that meant fuck all to you in that courtroom," she sneered. "Look up the definition of family, Damon – you'll find it has a different definition than what you go round lecturing to people! Family isn't something you get to choose, granted, but you do get to choose how much of an influence you let them have over you, and yours seems to have you blind to the goddamn truth."

She made to move again, but he was in front of her before she could move, his eyes conveying so much pain and heartache that she almost, _almost, _felt sorry for him.

"You're in my way," she said pointedly.

"You know you're the one who told me that my family was the only one I was ever gonna have, and that I should stand by them no matter what," Damon said, in a manner that almost suggested he was convincing himself he could be absolved from blame. "I was just following _your_ advice."

"Yeah, and I stand by what I said," she hissed at him. "But if you're using that as a way of wriggling your way out of what you did, then I take it back. Because if I'd known when I'd told you that you'd use that piece of advice to try and make it seem like I've brought this all on myself, I would've said _screw your family and listen to the one person who knows you better than you know yourself_, but, hell, I used to be a nice girl, so what the hell do I know?"

"Elena..."

"Damon..." she imitated, her eyes dripping with cruelty, even as she tried to hold herself together in the wake of his piercing gaze.

"I wanted to believe... I did... but the evidence..."

"Some things you shouldn't trust on plain sight, Damon," she said wearily. "Some things you just know by what your heart tells you." She gave a bitter laugh. "Then again, what use is following your heart if it leads you to believe that the one person you love more than anyone else isn't capable of breaking you more than anything else in your life?"

"Elena..."

"No," she mumbled, backing away, her hand grasping the handle of her suitcase, preparing to board the train. "I can't put myself through this again."

"Can't or _won't?_" he challenged angrily.

"Both!" Her eyes locked painfully with his. "That night we spent together was amazing, but it doesn't change where we both stand. Despite the man your father is, you still cling to his shadow because you're afraid of challenging him and being cut off as a result of it. You've spent years complaining about your family to me, but you can't function without them. You don't know how to have to faith in yourself, let alone anyone else - and that's because of your so-called perfect family by the by - and that's why we don't work. Because of you, I can't take any sort of leap of faith without checking to see if someone will catch me if I fall. Because of you, I'm forced to question _everything_. I can't trust as easily as I once did and that's because of you." She jabbed a finger against his chest, but there wasn't enough force behind the gesture to get across how angry and hurt she still was. "I have to get away from everything, Damon. This isn't me running away – it's me running towards a fresh start."

"I'm not saying I didn't screw up, Elena! I did! Big time! And I will spend the rest of my life hating myself for not being there for you when you needed me most. But running away – because that is what you're doing here, don't bullshit yourself into thinking you're doing anything else– isn't going to fix anything. You'll end up in some city somewhere, and you'll try and convince yourself you're happy blending in with the crowd, that you're happy that no one gives a damn who you are or where you came from. You'll hate it, you mark my words." He finally stepped backwards, tears filling his eyes for the first time. "You'll hate it and you'll want to come home, and I'll be waiting for you when you do."

"You don't get to say things like that, Damon." She was openly crying now. "You don't! Where were you when I _needed_ you? Why weren't you saying those things to me then?"

"Because I'm a fucking idiot, that's why!"

"Yes, you are," she snapped, wiping away the tears which were a sign of weakness she'd promised not to show in front of him. "Mystic Falls is a toxic town, Damon, filled with toxic people willing to believe anything but the goddamn truth. The sooner I get away, the sooner I can breathe again."

"Elena..." his jaw tightened as he managed to regain the steel note his voice had been lacking "...don't do this. You think you're doing the right thing here, but you're not."

"And how the _hell _would you know?" she sneered. "You don't know me anymore. You gave up the right to know me when you broke my heart. Sleeping with you was just a way of getting you out of my system once and for all. It meant nothing."

She half expected him to recoil at her cruel words, but he stood there, taking the brutal whip of her words.

"Go," he said, unexpectedly giving up, his shoulders slumping at the same point his eyes clouded over with an unidentifiable emotion. "If this is what will make you happy, who am I to stand in your way?" He peered through hooded eyes, his expression haunted. "Will this make you happy?"

She contemplated this for half a second.

"I don't know how to be happy anymore," she confessed, her laugh broken and false, like every aspect of her personality these days it seemed. "I smile and it feels false. I laugh, and it doesn't sound right to my own ears. I try and let go and I just... I wait for the moment when it all goes wrong and I end up with a pair of handcuffs slapped on my wrists." The sound of whistles in the background snapped her back into attention and she boarded the train, pausing to give Damon a last searching look before adding, "I'd say go to hell, Damon, but we're both there already; the difference is one of us has the means of actually getting back to reality and pretending nothing happened."

"For the record," he called after her, "I still love you. I never stopped! I don't think I even know _how_ to stop loving you!"

She didn't miss a beat.

"For the record," she said, making sure her eyes locked with his, "I don't care."

And she broke the last of her ties to Mystic Falls, severing it in such a way that she couldn't return even if her heart and head both agreed she needed to come back. Maybe she shouldn't have severed it with a lie, but there were a lot of things she shouldn't have done, starting with coming back in the first place.

The past couldn't be erased, and history was the best example of that, but it could be learned from, studied to avoid making the same mistakes.

Even so, despite yearning for a fresh start, Elena couldn't resist glancing out the window as the train started to pull away, not sure what emotions were at play when she realised he still stood there, his hands clenched into fists by his side, a lash of thunder rolling in the sky above before unleashing a torrential downpour which completed the pathetic looking display before her.

She quickly looked away, leaning back against her seat, her chest rising and falling at a speed she was unaccustomed to dealing with. A high pitched noise escaped her lips she couldn't suppress in time, attracting a few uncomfortable stares from the people around her, and she realised, a little too late, what was happening.

Her icy facade was melting – and her heart was breaking all over again.

And this time, it was her walking away, which went someway into explaining why it hurt even more than it had the first time.

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A/n: so that's the prologue. Thoughts? Just a few notes regarding this – Elena and Damon will be bitchier here than I've ever written them before, and the majority of it will come from Elena's perspective as most of the DE AH/AU stories tend to focus solely on Damon's perspective. This will be probably the most angsty fic I've written since Catching My Breath, Letting It Go (shameless plug, sue me :P) so prepare for an intense ride. Thank you for reviewing and I will still be writing The Rest Is Still Unwritten (another shameless plug) and the next update should be sometime this week.


	2. What Kind of Heart Doesn't Look Back?

Guilty Until Proven Innocent

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Summary: Recently released from prison for a crime she didn't commit, Elena returns to Mystic Falls to clear her name to the people who matter, one of whom includes a blue eyed, raven haired man who once stole her heart, but will he listen to her after believing for two years she was the sole reason his family fell apart? DE. Angst aplenty.

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Chapter 1

What Kind of Heart Doesn't Look Back?

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Peering through the glass, listing off the items it was her job to pass back to the recently released, a dark haired woman with thick eyebrows, and an unfortunately placed mole just to the right of her mouth, perched delicately on the corner of her mouth so that every time she spoke, the mole moved in a noticeable manner, handed the stiff looking woman in front of her the possessions she had in front of her before ticking off something on a clipboard in front of her.

The day was a bleak Monday, a gaping sky of grey hanging overhead, and only the nervous tapping of fingers used to grasping bars not fresh air against the pane of glass which separated the two women broke the silence which existed between them.

"You have a good day, ma'am," the woman finished with a bored look on her face, instantly dismissing the other woman with a flick of the wrist, returning to her paperwork as if she'd been disturbed by nothing more than an irritating fly.

Elena Gilbert gave the woman a polite smile in return, her nerves still frayed from her experiences, and then made sure to walk as fast as she could away from the place she'd called home for two years. Her insides still felt like they were liable to break with one sudden movement, and she'd developed this habit of tugging her hair as a result of not knowing what else to do with her hands, and the outside world seemed a far scarier place than it had ever done before, but she still felt that same sense of relief everyone must feel coming out of prison. The air felt so much fresher than she could ever remember it feeling, and the rain which fell down in buckets had to have been a sign that the worst was over, that her sins were being washed away and the next time the sun came up, her second chance at everything would begin.

Not that she had any sins to wash away, but that was something only she knew and believed with her entire heart. Nobody else seemed to catch the glimpse of truth in her eyes, and no one else seemed to care that it was an innocent heart which beat underneath the skin tainted by someone else's lies. Only her family seemed to care enough that there was more to the story than anybody knew, and they'd been working relentlessly to prove her innocence back home, a place Elena was actively dreading visiting because it was a small town, where gossip grew like weeds, growing where it wasn't wanted, and people she'd grown up with, people she thought had known her, would be judging her from the moment she came back, waiting for the next crack in her severely damaged visage to appear. She'd once been everybody's girl-next-door, who could do no wrong in everyone's eyes. She'd been in love, had a promising career, and a group of friends who were the best she could ever have asked for, and overnight that had all been swept from her.

Elena inhaled deeply, unable to help smiling at the sight of Jeremy standing by his car, overgrown for his age, his hair constantly going from one extreme length to another. As it stood right now, it was just shy of being too short, yet it made him appear older than he actually was. He was twenty one, a couple of years below her, but his sculpted jaw, his unfathomably dark eyes, and his sheer height alone all factored in to making him appear as though he was just shy of his thirtieth birthday, which he was secretly pleased with, telling her he'd been blessed with looks which meant he could attract older women with ease, which she hadn't wanted to know. He would always be her baby brother, and she dreaded hearing about what he'd gotten up to while she'd been inside.

"Elena!" he called, running up to her and throwing his arms around her.

"Hey there," she replied, sinking into his embrace, relishing the simple comfort of something she'd been severely lacking recently. "You okay?"

"I've been fine. You?" he said, pulling back so he could study her, and she wondered whether prison had visibly altered her in some way, perhaps branding her some extra frown lines given the fact she couldn't remember laughing or smiling in there at all. "And don't feed me some crap about you being fine. You're not. Nobody would be if they'd been through what you had."

"Any chance I'm not still a pariah back home?" she asked lightly, waiting for news on the one person whose opinion she('d) valued more than anyone else's.

Jeremy knew her well enough to read between the lines of her question. He knew she wasn't really concerned about how she was regarded back home, but how a certain blue eyed man, with dark tousled hair, viewed her.

"The evidence was overwhelmingly against you, Elena; you can't exactly blame him for thinking..."

"I know, Jer, and I appreciate more than I can ever say the faith and belief you and Jenna both have had in me, it's just..." she pinched the ridge of her nose, already feeling the strain of everything that had happened get to her, "...I kinda figured_ he'd_ know I was telling the truth more than anyone else, you know?"

"You grew up together. It's understandable you'd want him to react that way," Jeremy said, opening the door for her so she could slide in. "Sometimes people believe what their eyes see over what their hearts say though. I think he's a dick for refusing to hear you out, and I'll never forgive him for it, but I'm just saying it's not a stretch to understand why he reacted the way he did, particularly after what happened to his family afterwards."

"How is he?" Elena asked, dreading the answer but needing to hear it all the same.

Jeremy gave her a sidelong glance as he slid into the driver's seat, once again cutting through the vague question to get to what she really wanted answered.

"Engaged," he said shortly.

Elena had been expecting such an answer, but it still hurt her all the same to hear it. It felt like falling off a cliff with no sign of the ground to give her any indication how long it would be until the pain hit her in such a way that it would mean either instant death or paralysis.

"To...?"

"No one you know. She was a girl he went to college with. Some chick named Rose."

Elena vaguely remembered hearing about her. She was an undergraduate Damon had taken under his wing; she remembered the fight they'd had because she'd been convinced Damon was doing more than helping her study, and even though he'd told her that she should've had faith in him – ironic, given the fact he would later prove to have little faith in her – it still hadn't fully eradicated the doubt from her mind, because he was the epitome of handsome, with his dark hair, vivid blue eyes, muscled arms, chiselled chest, and that smile which could floor any woman on sight.

She missed him, and yet a part of her hated him. Hated his lack of faith in her. Hated the fact he might as well have been the one to throw her to the sharks, for all the energy he put into helping her. Hated the way he'd gotten into her bloodstream to the point where her every thought revolved around him in some way, making it almost impossible for her to move on.

Of course growing up with the guy meant there was so much history between them, which made his betrayal hurt even more. Years worth of laughter, tears, tantrums, slaps (always delivered by her, otherwise this would've been a completely different story), passionate rows, tender kisses, and all those other cliché moments that make up any relationship. She wondered how much had changed about him in two years, how much of himself he'd changed because it had been something associated with her.

It broke her heart thinking about how far they'd come, only for him to give up on her the moment she needed him most. Okay, the evidence against her had been overwhelming, and somehow no one was buying the theory she'd been framed, but she wouldn't have cared if nobody else had believed it. Hell, she wouldn't have cared if they'd carted her off to prison anyway; three little words from him would've made the time she'd spent in there a hell of a lot better.

_"I believe you."_

It was all she'd needed to hear. She didn't even need the promise of him waiting for her after her time had been served, just the knowledge that he believed her, even if a horrifying consequence of the charges she'd been accused of was that he had to disassociate himself from her. She would've understood, albeit been crushed by that decision, maybe even heartbroken.

Actually, no, she wouldn't have understood. You never gave up on someone if you had enough faith in them. He'd been the one to teach her that lesson.

_"No, Damon, I can't," she cried, flying out of her house, prepared to just take her car and drive away, just to get away from him._

_ With no aggression behind the gesture, he reflexively grabbed her arm._

_ "What's the big deal?" he demanded, locking his eyes on hers. "It's your dream job. Why can't you go for it?"_

_ "Because it'll take me far from here, far from you," she said, gritting her teeth with frustration, unable to explain, even to herself, what her real fears where. How was she supposed to tell him that she was so scared of messing everything up in such a fashion that it created juicy new gossip for the citizens of Mystic Falls to exchange? It was easier to make him believe the real conundrum here for her was being taken away from him, which, to be fair, was just a valid a concern. "Damon... _my life_ is here. My family is here. You're here. I can't give it all up for something I might not even be happy with in the long run. I'm not a risk taker. Not like you."_

_ "It's an editing job in Chicago, Elena. It's not like it's across the world. I have my car, you have yours...we'll make it work. And if long distance doesn't, it's not like I can't transfer and find a company in Chicago willing to hire me. We're not working with impossible odds here."_

_ "Yeah, but you hear about these couples who make sacrifices for each other, like moving somewhere to be with the other, and then they end up resenting each other for it!" she babbled, not even sure what her main worry was anymore – they'd all tangled together so she couldn't discern which concerns were valid, and which were nonsensical. "I – I can't lose you over a job. I won't."_

_ "It's your dream," he said firmly, putting one hand on each shoulder. "And I couldn't resent you if I tried. You have too much dirt on me for me to leave you. At this point, we're only together to keep each other in check." The twinkle in his eyes told her he was joking, but it didn't make her feel any better. "Elena, you always said if you couldn't get a foot on the writing ladder, your next goal was to be an editor of something. You did all this work in college, you did work experience at the Mystic Falls Gazette with my mom, helping her edit each article...and because of your dedication, you got an amazing job offer. I'm so proud of you, you know that?"_

_ She smiled weakly._

_ "I just don't want to be the reason we break up," she stressed. "I don't want to take you away from your life here."_

_ "My life is with you." He kissed her lips softly. "We spent so long getting to this part of our relationship, I'll be damned if I'm gonna let anything break us up. My mom is so proud of you, she won't stop singing your praises...you think she'll let anything break us up? Huh? Huh?" He watched with a satisfied smile as she giggled at his words. "See? Every silver cloud and all that..."_

_ "It's silver lining, genius."_

_ "See, you're already editing _me_, so what do you really have to worry about with this job? It'll be a breeze."_

_ Elena melted into his embrace, her body still shaking with laughter._

_ "I love you so much," she mumbled against his skin. _

_ "I love you too," he breathed into her hair, "for as long as you'll have me."_

_ "Idiot." She smacked his arm. "Who talks like that anymore?"_

_ "Big romantics like me," he bragged._

_ "Romantics like you, huh? And which Romeo was it who forgot our first anniversary? Do remind me."_

_ "Men aren't good with dates. Football scores and baseball statistics we can handle, but ask us to remember a date, and we're screwed," he replied innocently, throwing his arms out dramatically, before engulfing her with his arms, kissing every visible part of her skin, the two of them dissolving into innocent laughter._

_ "You can remember my birthday, but not the day we got together? You're such a crappy boyfriend," she complained, but she couldn't help but smile, something he was quick to pick up and even quicker at realising this meant he was off the hook._

_ "What's more important in the grand scheme of things – remembering an anniversary, or remembering which parts of your body, when touched the right way, trigger the most...pleasure?" he murmured huskily in her ear, and that promptly sent all of Elena's fears and worries flying out of her head as they became entangled, Damon navigating them back in the direction of her house, the two of them smiling broadly even as their lips mashed together, the perfection definition of a mismatched pair made in heaven._

She smiled a broken smile as shards of her and Damon's life together came to the surface, each one digging into her skin, making it hurt to remember their time together. He promised forever, but he just didn't have enough faith in her, in who she was, to power them through the difficult times.

Jeremy filled her in on what she'd missed since the last time he'd come to visit. He had a new girlfriend, Anna, who he met in the library at college while he was doing an art project, and he chuckled as he recounted how they met, which had happened when they'd been going for the same book and clunked heads while doing so.

She listened, nodding and smiling in the right places, her arms wrapped around her too thin body. Stress had worn her down to a shadow of her former self, yet somehow she continued surviving. Jenna and Jeremy had been her only visitors, which meant company was reduced to her fellow inmates, and since nobody had really warmed up to her, she'd been pretty much isolated since day one. Her kempt 'good girl' appearance had prevented her from making any connections while inside, and, while she was thankful she was able to keep her head down, it still made for a lonely existence.

"You ready for this?" Jeremy asked her softly, as they passed by the sign welcoming them into Mystic Falls.

"No," she said honestly.

"It was bad in the beginning, I'll admit, but nobody even says anything about it anymore."

"Well my coming back should wake up the gossipers," she replied wryly.

Jeremy glanced at her, frowning.

"You've changed," he noted, his tone one of puzzlement, as if he was trying to work out what exactly about her was different.

"Let's just say being locked up gave me a new perspective on everything," Elena responded, her tone preventing him from asking anything else about the subject. "How's Jenna been?"

"She's dating some history teacher that started just after I left school. His name's Ric – well, Alaric Saltzman, but he says it's too much of a mouthful, so everyone should just call him Ric."

"What's he like?"

"He seems pretty cool," Jeremy replied fairly. "And he makes Jenna act like she's eighteen again, so, as long as she's happy, he's good in my books."

Elena nodded, well aware they were making small talk to distract themselves from the brutal homecoming they were bound to receive. She wasn't sure if the date of her release would've been broadcast around town, but she was sure people would find out about her being back within the hour, so chances were all the abuse would start the moment she was settled back home.

It would hurt, but she'd hardened herself to the worst life could throw at her, so she could handle the odd nasty comment, even the possibility of being given the cold shoulder everywhere she went. These people weren't her friends anymore, and the chances were she would be giving them the cold shoulder back, particularly since nobody seemed to remember the fact they'd grown up with her, therefore would've been able to spot any telltale signs of future bad behaviour before they'd even fully developed.

Jeremy pulled up outside their house, opening the door and sliding silently out as Elena did the same. She stared at the house, wondering when it had become such a strange place to her own eyes. Every detail, from the porch with the busted swing, to the patch of roof which had uneven tiles due to shoddy workmanship she and Jeremy had never got round to hiring someone to fix, was just as she remembered it, but it felt like she was observing it from the point of view of a relative who rarely visited, yet knew the place well all the same.

This was depressing.

The sound of the door flying open, however, soon distracted her, as a woman with strawberry blonde hair flew down the steps to embrace her fiercely, to which Elena could only respond by laughing as she returned the fierce gesture.

"Hey, Jenna," she greeted, forcing some cheer into her voice. "It's so good to see you."

"I would've come with Jeremy to pick you up, but I had to tidy the house in preparation for you coming home," Jenna babbled, the grin on her face infectious. "How are you? Stupid question really – come on in."

Elena found herself being shepherded inside, everything so familiar and cosy that it made her cold exterior thaw out. The few possessions she'd been allowed to take inside with her she lay on one of the tables set out by the door, her eyes taking in everything with a mixture of nostalgia and bemusement.

"Nothing's changed," she sighed, not sure if she was relieved or disappointed by that fact.

"We insisted on keeping everything the same for when you came home," Jenna explained. "No point making the transition period harder than it needed to be."

"That's sweet, thank you," Elena said gratefully.

She directed herself to the living room, near enough collapsing into the comfort of the couch, letting her head loll back, both emotionally drained and wide awake at the same time. When Jenna enquired if she wanted anything to eat or drink, she mumbled that she was fine, and closed her eyes, finally letting a little of the real Elena seep to the surface as a lazy tear trickled down her face.

She'd kept her emotions shut down for so long, because in such a hostile environment they were useless. Nobody caved in to tears, nobody pitied you, nobody gave a damn about your problems. Everyone had their own issues to deal with, their own personal dramas, and prison was certainly not a place where you made friends, unless of course you just so happened to meet someone of the same calibre while you were in there and they were willing to give you more than just the time of day.

Habit soon led her to the front window, and although Jeremy had said Damon no longer lived opposite them, that one half of the family had moved across town to the old Boarding House, she couldn't help but stare longingly at the house, wondering who lived there now. She didn't recognise the car, so she had to assume someone new had moved into town, which would probably been a good source of gossip for a while, but she sincerely doubted nothing exciting had happened here recently that would take the heat of her coming home.

The worst part of it all was that Jenna and Jeremy, for a time, had been ostracised for their unwavering belief in Elena's innocence. People who'd once claimed to be their friends had turned their back on them, and it was only due to the advice Elena had given them, which was to put off any future visits to see her, that they'd eventually welcomed them back – albeit it begrudgingly – to the community, coupled with snide remarks that they weren't exactly to blame for Elena going wildly off the rails.

It was like nobody had really known her at all.

"He's not there you know," Jenna said softly, standing next to her. "We met the new neighbours the other day. They're British, you know."

"English, Jenna, they're English," Jeremy corrected. "Of course they're British too, but if you don't specify, people automatically assume English when Britain is made up of Wales and Scotland too."

"Okay, don't get all technical with me, mister," Jenna lightly scolded. "They're English, I get it." She rolled her eyes. "He's been like this ever since he started college. I can't say a single thing without him fact checking me."

"He's come so far from his stoner days," Elena said with a mock pout in her brother's direction. "It's getting me all emotional."

"Shut up," Jeremy moaned good-humouredly, ruffling her hair with affection before running in the direction of the stairs before she could hit him in response. "I'm going to my room. I'll leave you two to your gossiping."

Elena smiled after him before turning to Jenna, curiosity glazing her eyes.

"So English neighbours huh?"

"The Mikaelsons," Jenna confirmed. "Comprised of four brothers, one sister- and all of them are ridiculously attractive_. Seriously._ I've never seen a more attractive family in my life." Both of them peered across the street, as if hoping their stares would lure them out of their house. "Might be nice if we went over to introduce you, seeing how you've not been here." Jenna gave her a sly look. "What do you say?"

"Jenna! You're shameless!" Elena scolded, scandalised despite the small grin on her face. "I've no interest in meeting them, regardless of their high levels of attractiveness."

"Your loss," Jenna teased, bumping her lightly with her shoulder. "It might be easier to move on from... you know...if you did. Just saying..."

Elena swallowed.

She didn't know what was worse, the fact that Jenna avoided using his name like it would upset her to hear it – Jeremy was guilty of this too – or the fact even without hearing his name, she still felt that twist-to-the-gut feeling which occurred every time his face popped up in her mind. She still loved him, and that feeling of love and despair and heartbreak had consumed her every day since the last time she'd seen him. But the more you loved someone, the easier it was to hate them when they did something to betray you. Granted, Damon had every right to have a moment of doubt given how strong the evidence was, but all he had to do was look in her eyes and the truth would be there for him to read. She'd never been an open book, but he'd always managed to read her. It'd been one of his skills, something only he'd possessed the ability to do, and she felt a surge of frustration that that skill had let him down – let them both down – when it had come down to the most crucial point of their lives.

"Maybe I shouldn't have come back to this town," she said quietly. "Maybe it was an ambitious thought that maybe I could come back home and start again."

"Somebody's past shouldn't define them in the present," Jenna said wisely. "That was something your mom always said to me. Back when we were kids, she was a little hell raiser, always making trouble to the point where everyone believed she was going to end up in jail. Nobody ever thought she'd marry a doctor and have the picture perfect life she did, and that's why people have come down so strongly about you, Elena. A lot of people still remember the days when Miranda ran riot around town, so it gives them a good enough reason to explain your supposed behaviour."

"Bunch of bigoted gossips," Elena spat, uncharacteristically bitter.

"Yep. That's what you get when you live in a small town though. Small minded people," Jenna replied, giving her niece a one armed hug. "For what it's worth, Ric is on your side as well."

Elena raised a lone eyebrow dubiously.

"Seriously?"

"Think I'd be with him if he wasn't?"

Elena didn't say anything; she just wordlessly threw her arms around her aunt, her inner ice queen thawing at the overwhelming support she was receiving from her family. It was during times like these you found out who your allies were, and who had never really been on your side after all, and the people who fit into each of those categories could surprise you.

She continued staring out the window, mentally drifting off to a time when the occupants in that house had been like family to her, and she felt herself close off again, because she'd come back here for one reason – to get the truth out there, even if it meant she had to do some digging to get the proof she needed. After that, she planned to take her car which Jeremy (hopefully) had been taking care of in her absence, and drive away to a city where she could lose herself in the crowd and make a fresh start.

And she knew from all those cliché movies and shows that the only way of truly achieving a fresh start was to reconcile herself to certain truths, such as the fact that the man of her dreams wasn't who she believed him to be, and then put those truths to bed, chasing away her own ghosts in the meantime. Every story, good or bad, had to have some sort of closure to it before its sequel could begin, or at least a discernible way of telling that one dark era was over, even if another one replaced it soon after.

She just wish she had some sort of warning to tell her how rough the next few weeks of her life would be.

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A/n: so here we are, chapter 1 :) Trying to keep the characters fairly close to the way they've been portrayed on the show, but obviously since it's AU/AH, expect some slight character changes to fit the story. Thanks for all the reviews/faves/alerts! Appreciate every single one Chapter 2 is almost written so just give it a couple of days and a new update should be up.


	3. I've Got No Claim On You Now

Guilty Until Proven Innocent

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Summary: Recently released from prison for a crime she didn't commit, Elena returns to Mystic Falls to clear her name to the people who matter, one of whom includes a blue eyed, raven haired man who once stole her heart, but will he listen to her after believing for two years she was the sole reason his family fell apart? DE. Angst aplenty.

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Chapter 2

I've Got No Claim On You Now

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Because she'd retired to bed early, Elena was up with the sun, quick to make herself some coffee and breakfast, although her appetite seemed to have left her side, only making quick visits throughout various points of the day. Maybe it was something to be concerned about, but right now she knew she had to make her grand entrance into town.

Sipping her coffee, she realised the little things she'd missed, from being able to simply walk into whichever room she liked, no questions asked, to fixing her own food the way she liked it, to the view that greeted her when she slid the back door open to get some much needed fresh air. Nightmares tended to plague her sleep now, so she could only get snatches of relaxation during slumber, meaning she was tense not just when she went to bed but also when she woke up. The nightmares weren't the kind which woke her up screaming, just the kind that had her eyes flying open, a thin sheen of sweat coating her skin, and it was always, _always _centred around being trapped somewhere, whether it was behind bars or in the car which had practically flown off of Wickery Bridge, with her and her parents inside it.

Her life was just one trauma after another, but she'd learned to roll with the punches life dealt her, purely because she had no desire whatsoever to become one of those girls who crumbled because it was all too much. Maybe it was a normal reaction to crumble and fall, given what she'd been through, but possessing a compassionate and caring nature apparently made no lick of difference in an otherwise hostile world. People's opinions of you weren't rooted in what they knew about you already, and they changed just as easily as the circumstances you found yourself in. Sometimes in life you were dealt with a few friends, family members, willing to stick by you no matter what, but more often than not, you were surrounded by people with double sided faces, who wore one mask around you, another when you were absent. She just couldn't trust anybody on face value anymore.

"Hey," Jeremy yawned, his sudden appearance making her flinch. "You're up early."

"So are you," she countered. "What happened to the boy who only woke up at noon?"

"He got a place in college and decided not to waste the opportunity," he retorted, half asleep by the look of things.

"I'm making some toast, but if you want a slice help yourself to one."

"How many did you make?"

"Two slices, but somehow I think I'll only stomach one."

He gave her a critical stare.

"You're not eating much," he noted gently. "Why?"

"I'm anxious all the time. It kinda makes it hard to stomach food," she admitted, not seeing the point in lying to him.

"Jail really screwed you up, huh?" he said, laughing nervously, trying to make a joke about it, which was what brothers were supposed to do, really, but Elena couldn't appreciate the effort.

She briefly closed her eyes, holding back the waves of anger and anxiety which always gathered inside her, as if she was brewing her own miniature storm and always on the precipice of unleashing it upon the world.

"I wasn't religious, you know, before I went in. Never believed in God, didn't understand how anyone could pray to someone who wasn't there... I used to think it was like making a phone call to a dead number in the hopes that someone might pick up and shatter your expectations. But every night I was in there, I prayed. I prayed that somebody might come and say that there had been a terrible mistake and that was I free to go. I prayed that Damon would come to visit, just to say he believed me, just to say he would be waiting for me, that we could get past this because we'd been through too much to let it all go. But my prayers went unanswered, and the only thing I found faith in was myself. So yes, I guess you could say prison screwed me up."

"Where did the anxieties come from?"

She looked at him through hooded eyes, unable to really explain where her demons came from. How could she explain to Jeremy that even though she was home, she would never stop looking over her shoulder, waiting for the police to come and invent some implausible reason why she had to go back inside? How could she describe the way being imprisoned felt to someone who'd never, even in his darkest days, experienced that kind of trauma? How could she surmise the entire experience in a short, neat answer, while at the same time succinctly describing how it had all left her questioning and doubting every action she made?

Instead of trying to devise an answer, she merely shrugged, finishing her coffee before washing the cup, finding it gave her a reason to avoid Jeremy's studious gaze for a moment or two.

"What are you gonna do now then?" he asked, and she wondered if he was being general, as in enquiring after her long term plans, or specific, as in asking what she planned to do in this moment.

The short answer to both was a tentative _I don't know. _

"I suppose the next step is to get myself out the house," she answered after a moment's thought.

"So soon?"

"Why not? Can't coop myself in here all day."

"Want me to come with you?"

"And be my bodyguard?" She gave him a wry smile. "I may not have had the clichéd prison experience – you know, being in an all women's prison – but I've learned to handle myself, Jer."

He nodded, not quite convinced but willing to let the matter go for now.

"Ric's coming over later, so you'll get to meet him."

"I think I'm gonna take my car into town," she mused aloud, "let people know I'm coming. Is my baby okay, Jer? Where did you leave her?"

He cringed, a deep flush coating his cheek.

"Jeremy..." she warned, wondering what he was hiding from her.

"About a couple of months after you were incarcerated, your car was attacked. We're talking graffiti, smashed windows, busted radio ... they really went to town on damaging it. We tried to get it fixed, but our mechanic, you know the one who was _supposed _to be a family friend, gave us a quote that was just ridiculously steep to the point of extortion, and this is the same man who fixed our parents car up for free after their funeral because we couldn't bear to see it end up being scrapped, so no way in hell did I buy his excuse that his discount services only extended so far."

Elena pinched the ridge of her nose, looking pained.

"So she's gone?"

"I'll buy you a new one," Jeremy promised, "I'd been meaning to get you one before you came home but..."

"Don't." She shook her head vehemently. "I appreciate the gesture, Jer, but that car was a present from dad for passing my test. The thought of getting a new one makes me feel sick, in all honesty, so for now I'll just walk everywhere."

"You sure? I can give you a lift anywhere you wanna go..."

"I'm the older sibling, Jer. I think it's supposed to be _me_ taking care of _you_," she joked.

"If you don't take care of yourself first, there's no taking care of me," he said firmly. "I'm an adult now anyway. You don't have to baby me anymore." He rose to his feet. "Have both slices of toast, Elena. I'm going back to bed. Man was not built to function at this goddamn time."

She watched him huff and puff his way up the stairs, still yawning loudly, and it struck her now that maybe she'd not given him enough credit for being an absolutely perfect brother, keeping an eye on her even when she didn't realise that was what he was doing.

The Jeremy she remembered would rather have lost a limb than coax himself out of bed to keep his sister company in the morning, and she felt a strange sense of bereavement, aware she wasn't the only one who'd changed in her absence. He'd grown up, putting his days of taking drugs far behind him, and though she loved him intensely for becoming this caring, responsible man seemingly overnight, even though she knew in reality this change had taken place over the span of two years, she kind of missed his immature side, because he could make her smile and laugh when the world otherwise insisted on making her sad.

_"Stop it, Jeremy!" she scolded, holding her sides as she succumbed to waves of laughter. "I'm...gonna...wet...myself!"_

_ Jeremy grinned, putting the phone down. _

_ "I told you it was easy to do, but you didn't believe me!"_

_ She held her hands up in a defensive pose._

_ "Okay, on this occasion you happened to be right. I just didn't think you'd have the guts to pull a Bart Simpson and actually make a successful prank call. And with such a lame name too! Who would actually buy the fact that someone out there might have the name 'Amanda HugandKiss'?"_

_ "Apparently the Mystic Grill does," Jeremy howled, and they suddenly dissolved into fits of laughter. "They must only employ stupid people."_

_ "Hey!" She hit his arm. "Matt's mom works there."_

_ "My point still stands."_

_ "Jeremy! That's rude!"_

_ "She still calls me Jared, even though our families have been friends for, like, forever! How does she not know my name by now? I'm very memorable!"_

_ "Maybe she just knows a lot of guys and she just finds it hard to remember names," Elena suggested. _

_ Jeremy raised an eyebrow, but made no further comments. _

_ "Got you laughing, so you owe me five bucks," he bragged, sticking his hand out._

_ "We made no such bet, you little liar! And you're my brother – you're supposed to make me laugh for free!"_

_ "Well, I'm at an age where I have to start thinking about saving for college, so I'm gonna have to start charging you for laughing at my antics."_

_ "Jeremy...you're twelve, and such a dork," she snorted, ruffling his hair. _

_ "Maybe so, but got you to stop thinking about that stupid punk, Ryan, didn't it?"_

_ She made a face._

_ "Point made, now let's talk about something else before I remember how he completely humiliated me when I went to ask him to the dance."_

_ "You got it, sis."_

Elena gave a weak smile at the memory.

Jeremy would've done anything for her, even taken the stretch in prison for her. In fact, Jenna had told her he'd tried to take the blame, although with such compelling evidence to the contrary, his pleas had fallen on deaf ears, but the thought of her brother trying to take her place melted her ice cold heart every time.

Circumstances and attempting to carry a broken heart with her into prison had resulted in this ice queen exterior that only thawed out during moments with her family.

She was looking forward to running into Damon. Honestly.

She had a few choice words to say to him, and none were pleasant, and she planned on force feeding him the truth until he accepted it, but at the same time she wasn't going to reconcile herself to a life of trying to make him believe her. She would give it her best shot, try and rustle up something concrete to offer as proof, and whether it came to the conclusion she wanted or not – namely Damon begging her for forgiveness as the reality of what he'd done dawned in the tips of his cerulean eyes – she would leave town with her head held high.

She deserved better than to be stuck in a town filled with people who believed only what they heard from the mouths of other people, who were so quick to judge regardless of the facts they'd been presented with. She deserved better than a man who could charm his way into your heart, make you believe he was there for you through everything, and then discard you the moment things looked bad.

Elena Gilbert deserved more than this life, this hand, she'd been given, so she was going to up the stakes and give this town a brutal taste of its own medicine.

What was that old adage?

_If people are going to talk, give them something to talk about._

A slow smile spread across her lips, even though the gesture itself was empty, devoid of any true joy or emotion. It was akin to that smirk he used to wear when he thought he had the upper hand in any situation, but she could usually wipe it off him by kissing his lips. Thinking about his kisses still got her flustered, hot under the collar, but she could douse out those thoughts by reminding herself of how she literally saw the emotion drain from his eyes as he watched her being taken away. She could cool down any hot flushes by pulling up the picture from memory of the way he'd looked at her in court, how his eyes had scanned her as if he barely recognised her, how when the verdict was read, he'd simply walked out of the room, as if the moment the case had adjourned, so had his interest in her.

At this point, Elena wasn't sure which need burned stronger: the need for the truth to come out, or the need for revenge.

Her plan could even ensure both. She'd have to wait and see how it all panned out.

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The skies were overcast when Elena eventually left the house. Clutching a small leather bag, and draped in dark clothes that adequately reflected the mood she was in, she strode down the path, taking the turn that would lead her straight into town. If she glanced ever so slightly to the left and right of her, she could spot the odd neighbour peeking through the curtains, noting her appearance with a mixture of fear and disgust.

Bitterness washed over. Her strides became longer, eager to get to the heart of where the drama usually unfolded – the town square. People would be opening shops at this time, shouting greetings to their neighbour businesses, vans unloading their goods by their appropriate venues. It was the usual cacophony of morning life when she arrived in town in less than fifteen minutes, and she both relished and despised it. She was sure everybody had spotted her, but they were either making great leaps to ignore her, or they were waiting for the right moment to pounce; she wasn't sure which one she preferred to be honest.

Mystic Falls was a parade of activity, with something usually going on every week or so, which Elena had always found hard to keep track of. She glanced up at the city hall, noting with a degree of disdain that there was some sort of charity ball happening at the weekend. That was something she knew she would be avoiding like the plague. Even if her contempt for the town did merit a public display highlighting these feelings, she wasn't that heartless that she'd interrupt something that was for charity because of a selfish need to get even with a town that had turned its back on her when she'd needed it most.

"Elena Gilbert?"

She inwardly cringed before turning around.

_And so it begins..._

She was greeted by the sight of April Young, a girl she'd spent a few summers babysitting, and it was startling to say the least to see on first sight that she didn't seem remotely nervous or angered by Elena's appearance.

"Hi, April," she said, her voice laced with caution. "How you been?"

"I'm okay thanks," April responded, too chirpy that it made Elena suspicious. "You know, my dad used to talk about you a lot. For some reason, the other day I asked about you and he kind of tensed up. No idea what that was about."

Ah. It all became clear to Elena as she remembered April attended a school that was out of district, so of course she wouldn't have been clued into what had happened in the Mystic Falls area.

"How come you're back in town?"

"Mom passed away, so I had to come live with my dad." April suddenly looked confused. "Didn't you hear?"

"Kind of been away for a while, so I've not really been caught up on the news around here," Elena replied, giving her a tight lipped smile.

"Really? Where have you been?"

Elena closed her eyes, trying to find the strength to persevere with this conversation. April was a couple years younger than her, and far more naive, and right now she was irritating. Elena only had so much patience reserved for those who were ignorant of what had happened, although admittedly it wasn't her fault she'd not been clued in. From what Elena remembered about Pastor Young, April's father, despite his religious ways, he valued the town and its citizens with a disturbing level of reverence. It was no wonder he'd scorned her from behind her back – in Mystic Falls, anyone or anything which threatened to besmirch the town's pristine reputation ended up being donned the black sheep, and subsequently ostracised as a result.

"Here and there," she replied vaguely.

As naive as April was, Elena had no doubts that the moment she heard a snippet of what she'd missed in terms of news, she would be quick to back away, because she wasn't stupid. This town operated on a collaborative level, which meant everyone tended to work – and, annoyingly, think – together, which now she thought about it made Mystic Falls one of the most stupidly co-dependent towns she'd ever heard of.

"Oh." To her relief, April accepted her vague non-answer. "Well it's good to see you."

"April..." a voice Elena would've recognised blindfolded suddenly chirped, causing her to momentarily cringe. "It's so good to see you. I'm Carol Lockwood, the wife of the mayor, I don't suppose you remember me? I babysat you on a couple of occasions..."

Carol Lockwood, a short haired brunette with the uncanny ability to swoop in when you didn't want her around and steal control of whatever conversation you were in the middle of having, appeared from nowhere, wearing a smile as false as the colour in her hair – it was no secret she hated the mere sign of aging in the form of grey hairs, and did everything possible to combat it – and immediately slid between April and Elena like she'd been there this entire time.

Elena grimaced at her back.

April did her best to answer Carol's round of questions, which told Elena that she wasn't the only returnee yet the only one of interest it seemed, but she appeared flustered, finally stuttering out some excuse before giving a nervous smile and backing off, leaving Carol to whirl around, presenting Elena with a look she couldn't for the life of her work out. The smile radiated warmth, but her eyes were cold, sending her mixed signals.

"Elena, dear, so good to see you again," Carol spoke, and it almost sounded genuine. "How have you been?"

"Can't complain really," Elena gritted out, except she had a list as long as her arm of the reasons why she could complain. "How's the family? How's Tyler?"

"Tyler's really good." Ah, finally a reason for the smile; the smugness coating Carol's ever word made sure to drill home how much of a success her own son had become, and given the fact they'd grown up together, Elena knew Carol wanted to ensure she knew how pleased she was that out of the two of them, her son hadn't been the one to screw up his own life. "He's taken up politics so he can take his father's place as mayor someday, you know, providing he gets elected and all that business."

She gave an irritating laugh, one which told Elena if things played out her way, Tyler would be the mayor

"As I recall, his ambition was to be a professional footballer though," Elena noted, remembering fondly the days of cheer-leading at the football games where her former boyfriend, Matt, and Tyler used to play, and they'd taken pride with every game they'd played, relishing the victories and lamenting the defeats with all the passion of professionals. "What changed?"

"He decided he wanted to make his father proud and follow in his footsteps. Tyler's always been a charismatic young man..."

"I see," Elena said, understanding with more than just a degree of disgust how easily the ambitious mind of a child could be changed into the resigned mind of an adult conceding to parental pressure.

"Are you back for good?" Carol enquired politely, the sweetness to her tone sickening to the ears like too much sugar on the tongue. "Or will you be finding permanent residence elsewhere?"

_Could you be more fucking obvious?_ Elena wondered, barely restraining the urge to make a scene by yelling at this woman in the crowded square.

"I haven't decided yet," she settled on as a reply.

The elephant in the room – well, square – was as obvious as it had ever been, but the two women engaged in a stare down that confirmed all that they were thinking without saying a word. Elena could read the woman's wariness as clearly as if she'd signposted it; likewise, she hoped the mistrust she felt towards her was clearly visible, because despite the fact she'd known Carol all her life, she wanted it known she wanted nothing to do with her for as long as she was in town.

"I hope if you choose to stay you'll be helping maintain the town's pristine reputation," Carol eventually said, which in other words meant _don't you dare do anything to ruin all the hard work that's been done to repair the damage your incarceration caused. _

Elena restrained the urge to roll her eyes.

"If the town had one to maintain, I'd be more than happy to do so," she returned, just as politely, unable to resist having a dig at the fact the town like to bury its secrets and pretend it was this picture perfect cornucopia of paradise.

She gave Carol a strained smile and then walked past, feeling more than satisfied by the exchange, but that smile soon flew off her face when she saw who was taking an early morning walk through the square.

Time could do many things – heal superficial wounds, scar the deeper ones – but it seemed the one thing it had never been able to touch was Damon's looks. He was still insanely beautiful, with dark locks that always seemed to have that tousled look to them, and they stood out against his white skin, which was usually only tinged with a light stubble, sometimes a deep flush whenever he was around his family because that was the effect they had on him, always pushing him to new and better heights – at least, that's how she remembered the situation being. It could've all changed now.

Her eyes scanned his clothes, noting he dressed all in dark now. Before, he'd abhorred dark clothes, dismissing them as the mark of a gothic culture, but now he was draped in them. A dark leather jacket encompassed a dark v-neck, accompanied by loose jeans which hung loose on his hips was what made up his wardrobe, but what she was more interested in was the young woman his arm was wrapped around.

She was probably the same age as he was, her hair styled in a pixie cut, a lazy smile twisting her lips. Elena noted her in the same way any ex-girlfriend would view the new companion of someone they'd once loved dearly – with a mixture of disdain at how fast he'd moved on, and absolute devastating at how attractive she was. They looked genuinely in love, that was the killer blow here. Damon's eyes would lazily fall on Rose, and he would lean over to kiss the top of her head, and she would jab him fiercely in the side, laughing at his poor attempts at acting wounded.

That used to be them once upon a time. They used to be that carefree, that in love with each other, although their relationship had taken a surprisingly long time to reach that point considering everyone else had come to the conclusion long before them that they would end up together.

_"Your brother is a pain," Damon complained, collapsing onto Elena's bed much to her chagrin._

_ "Okay..." she said slowly, her gaze calculative, taking in his frustrated expression with a degree of curiosity. "What's he done now?"_

_ "More of the same. Keeps asking when we're gonna end up together."_

_ Elena snorted._

_ "He's relentless. Kid can't maintain interest in school, but when it comes to our relationship he's suddenly Sherlock Holmes."_

_ Damon propped himself up with her pillow, clutching her teddy to his chest, the picture of innocence she couldn't help but smile at._

_ "What are you doing with Teddy?" she enquired, trying to be stern and failing miserably._

_ "Real original name," he snorted. "He looks more like a Sebastian to me."_

_ Elena let out a stream of giggles at his comment._

_ "You're such a dork," she commented, going over to sit by his knees, smirking at him, her eyes sparkling with amusement because that was what his presence seemed to bring out most in her. _

_ "I broke up with Dana, that's what prompted your kid brother's interest," he announced, suddenly averting his eyes. _

_ Her eyes widened._

_ "Why? She genuinely liked you."_

_ He shrugged._

_ "I dunno. I just go from girl to girl looking for something, and when I don't find it, I get bored and move on."_

_ "It's a sad way to live," she pointed out, trying not to judge, yet unable to understand Damon's logic, how he could go from girl to girl trying to find something, a quality, that currently eluded him; he wasn't the type to hook up with a girl unless he was absolutely sure there was a chance she could mean something to him, although admittedly he thrived on flirting and charming girls until they became a nervous wreck in front of him, something she was quick to try and stop if it happened in her presence. _

_ "Says the girl who can't tell Matt Donovan, the boy who's been hopelessly in love with her since forever, that she wants to break up with him," Damon fired back, his voice teasing, but there was a note of something that made it sound like he was almost frustrated at her indecision. _

_ "You'd think being with your best friend would be easy, like something from the movies," she sighed. "But it's not. It's hard – so much harder because you have to work at keeping two things alive: the romance and the friendship."_

_ "I thought I was your best friend!"_

_ She rolled her eyes. It didn't surprise her that that was all Damon would take from her lamentation of her dispassionate relationship with Matt._

_ "You are, but I'm not in love with you," she said, and the moment the words were expelled from her lips, something unspoken passed between them._

_ Damon's blue eyes locked with her warm brown ones, and for a moment it seemed they shared a common thought, a momentary what-if scenario that had them both frozen, their expressions contemplative, their eyes ever so casually dropping to each others' lips, as if they were letting themselves imagine what it would be like to let themselves be more than friends._

_ "DINNER'S READY, GUYS!" Jeremy hollered loudly on the other side of the door, interrupting the strange moment which had crept up between Damon and Elena. "MOM SAYS SHE'S SET A PLACE FOR DAMON BECAUSE, YOU KNOW, HE'S ALWAYS HERE! HER WORDS NOT MINE!"_

_ "ALRIGHT, JER, NO NEED TO SHOUT!" Elena hollered back, rolling her eyes. "WE'RE NOT EXACTLY ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE WORLD!"_

_ "IF I'M ALWAYS HERE, I'M PRACTICALLY PART OF THE FAMILY, SO YOU BEST START SHOWING ME SOME RESPECT!" Damon yelled back, grinning broadly._

_ "NOT A FUCKING CHANCE!" came Jeremy's less than eloquent response._

_ Elena couldn't help but grin, because this sort of exchange was what happened near enough on a daily basis, and she couldn't imagine it ever changing at any point. Jeremy was comfortable enough around Damon now that he saw him like a brother and she hoped the feeling was mutual on Damon's part. _

_ She looked back at Damon, who was gazing at her, chewing his bottom lip thoughtfully, as though he'd suddenly realised something, and she tilted her head at an angle, trying to work him out, and then, in a slow, calculating way, he shuffled towards her, cupping her face with his hands, and before she knew it, his lips were on hers, and it was a slow, tender motion, creating waves of some unidentifiable emotion to crash against her body, and before she knew it, she was reciprocating the motion, unsure what they were even doing, but unable to fight it. It was a slow kiss, before it built up to something that robbed Elena of air, thought and all her senses, and she quickly became consumed by it, the one thought clinging on for dear life being _why the hell haven't we done this before?

_ He pulled back suddenly, so she was left with her hands clutching nothing but air, her eyes slowly opening, confusion spreading across her features, and he sat across from her, wearing a goofy smile and a look of absolute clarity._

_ "What – " She couldn't speak for a moment, the power of speech taken cruelly from her by that insane kiss. "What was that about?"_

_ "I was proving a point to myself."_

_ "And that point was?"_

_ "That the reason I go through girls like you go through lip gloss is because none of them hold a candle to you. It might be the most cliché thing in the world to fall for your best friend, but I guess I've gone and done that anyway." Damon looked at her with an earnestness she'd never seen in his eyes before. "It was driving me crazy, trying to work out what was wrong with each girl I went out with, and it's only just hit me now that there was nothing wrong with any of them... they just weren't you."_

_ Elena gaped at him, conflicting emotions flickering like shadows across her face."Are you being serious right now?"_

_ "As serious as a heart attack," he told her solemnly._

_ She struggled internally for a moment, weighing up the pros and cons of pursuing this before she eventually raised her eyes, meeting Damon's hopeful stare with a willful glance of her own._

_ "You can't kiss me again," she told him._

_ "I figured you'd say something like that," he admitted, visibly crushed. "Did I cross a line? I crossed a line..."_

_ She placed a hand over his mouth, warmth bubbling in the corners of her eyes._

_ "Let me finish, you idiot. You can't kiss me again until I've broken up with Matt," she said, "It wouldn't be right – hell, you kissing me now isn't right. Your timing sucks." She saw the corners of his lips upturn as he slowly caved into smiling. "But if the way I felt just now when your lips met mine is any indication of what this could be, I'm committed to taking a shot at it."_

_ "Really?"_

_ "Yes," she said, biting her lower lip. "But you should know this all terrifies me. What if we crash and burn? I don't think I could handle losing you."_

_ He cupped her face again, resting his forehead against hers in a surprisingly tender gesture._

_ "You won't lose me. We won't crash and burn, I'll make sure of it."_

_ She gave a weak smile. _

_ Somehow he could always make her believe things would be okay, even when it seemed like only tough times lay ahead. _

Not stopping to see if Damon had caught her staring, Elena felt herself turn and walk the other way, crippled by the memories, hating herself for succumbing to weakness after her display of strength.

She loved him – god help her but she still loved him – but this was a definite sign to close the book on him forever. Even if she could persuade him to believe her, what difference would it make? He'd still be engaged, still on course to marry a different woman, so all this effort would've been in vain. It wouldn't change the past, and certainly not the future, so maybe she should just get up and leave town before anymore damage could be done.

Elena internally debated this even as she was agonising over the way Rose and Damon had looked as a couple, but in the end it would prove to be an encounter with an unexpected ally that would cement her decision to stay and meet up with him.


	4. I Thought I Could Fly So Why Did I Drown

Guilty Until Proven Innocent

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Summary: Recently released from prison for a crime she didn't commit, Elena returns to Mystic Falls to clear her name to the people who matter, one of whom includes a blue eyed, raven haired man who once stole her heart, but will he listen to her after believing for two years she was the sole reason his family fell apart? DE. Angst aplenty.

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Chapter 3

I Thought I Could Fly, So Why Did I Drown?

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He woke up that morning with a hangover. While trying to regain his senses, he tried vaguely to recall what it was he'd been celebrating – or commiserating, you never knew – but memory failed him. As he stirred, his arm brushed against soft skin, his eyes peeling open to reveal Rose tucked there, always ensuring even in slumber that she didn't take up too much room because she was aware he loved his space, and a soft smile graced his lips.

Damon stared at her for a moment, before realising he wasn't the type to romantically gaze at someone, even if they were his better half, so he managed to rouse himself enough to swing his legs over the side of the bed, running a hand through his hair as he stumbled, naked, in the direction of his en-suite bathroom. He lived with Rose in a house that was, frankly, meant to be a Boarding House, not a home, but it was either living here or moving out of Mystic Falls, which he could've lived with, but Rose had family here, friends, and wasn't prepared to uproot just because he was on bad terms with his family.

He sighed.

Every day he woke up hating the fact he was no longer on speaking terms with his mother or brother, that he was left with a father who actively resented him, using every opportunity to bring him down whenever and wherever possible, and every day he thought about picking up the phone, putting aside his pride, and talking to them, but feuds which had stretched out this long generally tended to be near enough impossible to resolve. Pride, and a handful of other issues, usually stopped one party from approaching the other to come to some sort of reconciliation.

"I can hear you thinking from all the way over here," Rose mumbled, stirring slowly.

He glanced at her over his shoulder, the door separating the bathroom from the bedroom wide open.

"I'm trying to work out what we were celebrating last night, and how badly my body's gonna punish me for it today," he replied, wrapping a towel around his waist, although he wasn't sure why he was displaying modesty as a character trait right now.

"You were celebrating quitting your job as I recall, although that hardly merits a celebration in my book," Rose said, finally pushing the covers off her, revealing a curvaceous body covered in a thin pale pink nightgown. "Your father has probably left you a thousand angry voicemails."

"Probably," Damon agreed, running both hands under a stream of cold water, slapping them both against his face as he attempted to wake himself up. "The old man went too far this time though. I remember the smug bastard playing his top trump card at that important meeting, in front of all those important clientele, putting me in a situation where I couldn't react unless I wanted to lose the company business."

"You didn't tell me what he said. You just came home in a rage, got changed, and said you were heading to the bar." Rose crept up behind him, massaging his shoulders which strangely enough failed to calm him. "He's always been difficult, so what was it that finally made you break?"

Damon stared moodily into the mirror, remembering the details of the night as they resurfaced in the forefront of his mind, like a self-assembling jigsaw puzzle.

_He hadn't wanted to go to this particular meeting but his father had insisted. There was talk of some sort of promotion, which to be honest Damon was completely unenthused about. Advancing up the corporate ladder of a business you had no interest in was one way to ensure the slow dissolution of your soul; another way was spending any amount of time in his father's company, so this meeting was guaranteed to completely drain him._

_ His father, Giuseppe Salvatore, owned a prestigious firm that was slowly gaining a reputation for being quite a ruthless, and profitable, business. Damon's role in it was a small one, hardly noteworthy, but his father insisted the fact he'd employed him showed the faith he had in him to do well enough to take over the business some day. Nepotism aside, Damon resented being any part of his father's business, and expressed his dissatisfaction on any and every occasion, but part of Giuseppe's will stated that Damon's portion of his inheritance would be stripped from him if he didn't get actively involved with his father's business. Damon hated himself for wanting the money when the old man passed on, but he assured himself it would all be worth it one day. He had plans of his own and they didn't include running a firm inherited from a stuffy old man with outdated views._

_ This meeting was a celebration, a joining of two branches, and with great reluctance, Damon found himself in a boardroom, amongst a sea of faces with varying degrees of self-importance on their faces. _

_ "To a new partnership," his father toasted, and every voice – barring Damon's, who sat there sullenly, resenting everything, forced to smile and play nice when that wasn't who he was at all – echoed this sentiment._

_ "I'd like to take this opportunity to talk about my son," Giuseppe continued, and Damon stiffened in his seat, knowing this couldn't end well. "He's made me proud." The 'for once' wasn't uttered, but it was heavily implied in his tone much to Damon's annoyance, but so far this seemed to be going in a fairly acceptable direction. "He's handled the grunt work of this business with remarkable aptitude, so it is with a deep sense of pride I offer him a permanent place here in the boardroom, what do you say son?"_

_ A round of applause followed this speech, with Damon inwardly cringing at the too forced smile his father wore, a gesture which stretched out his face in an unnatural way. His father had always been at home with frowning, but smiling was something he'd done too little off in his earlier years so now it appeared forced, too misshapen to be taken sincerely, although the fools in this room seemed to buy it._

_ "Thank you, father," he said through gritted teeth, resigning himself to a life of perpetual boredom and frustration. "I'm extremely grateful for what you've presented me with, and it is with great pride – " he almost vomited on the words he forced out – " that I accept the promotion."_

_ "As well you should, it's a fantastic opportunity I'm presenting you with," Giuseppe boomed, smiling broadly._

_ Even when his father offered praise, or something on the lines of praise, it had to be followed with something negative, like a warning of some kind, some sort of utterance that made it perfectly clear Damon was only at this particular point in his life down to luck and family kindness, not the talent or charisma he possessed himself. _

_ "Let's hope you make decisions regarding business better than you make decisions regarding whose company you keep," his father added, and Damon knew who he was referring to. _

_ Yes, his father had expressed concerns over Rose initially, questioning their relationship, scrutinising their every move whenever they shared dinner as a small – and broken – family, and yes he'd made no attempt to disguise his bemusement at who Damon's friends were, but there was absolutely no doubt in Damon's mind as to who his father was really taking a dig at here, in the most subtle of ways as only his father could._

_ Fury swept through him. Hatred pooled in the corners of Damon's eyes. He had no idea why he even felt this way, why feelings for a woman who'd singlehandedly ruined his life suddenly flared up in defence against his father's subtle tirade, but he elected not to question it until later. All that mattered was his father still in part blamed him for his family's division, and that wordless accusation would follow him around no matter what he accomplished. _

_ Rising to his feet, he gave a contemptuous glance around the room, needing only a handful of words to accurately surmise the depth of his hatred for this entire place._

_ "You know what? You can stick your promotion where the sun won't shine, dad. I won't spend the rest of my life kissing your ass for a pittance. I quit."_

_ Aware shock and rage were fighting for dominance on his father's face, Damon swept out the room, too enraged himself to revel in the fact he was now free to do whatever the hell it was he wanted to do. He should've done this years ago, and he remembered her voice – a voice low and husky during intense moments, quick to change pitch when she found something so funny – coaxing him to quit, only he never listened. _

_ Guess it was funny how one moment you could think you were over someone, only to find a reflexive need to leap to their defence could push you into doing something you should've done a long time ago, thus rendering the only moving on process pedantic. _

He surfaced from that unpleasant memory, a deep scowl settling into his features.

"That was all he said?" Rose sounded confused. "Damon, he could've meant anything by that."

"I know who he was referring to, Rose. I know him better than anyone, and he likes to make subtle digs at the poor choices of others. It's how he works," Damon snapped, splashing more cold water onto his face, his head still pounding, every part of him as delicate as hell.

"Okay, okay..." Rose, to his relief, dropped that matter. "So what are you gonna do now?"

"I have a degree in Business Management I should probably put to some use," Damon muttered, turning around to meet her genuinely worried look. "I don't know. That course was so boring, I don't think I could handle actually doing anything business related. It's just a soul draining career choice."

"Whatever you do, we'll figure it out together," Rose said, leaning up to kiss his lips. "I know it's early, but how about a walk into town? Fresh air might do you some good, and you might get some inspiration for a new career path."

"What, in the square of Mystic Falls? The place where all the same events happen year after year?" Damon groaned aloud. "Fine, but if I run into him there, I'm not going to be held accountable for my actions."

"So stubborn," she smiled, pressing her lips to his again, her hands skimming his chest with a feather light touch.

"Always," he grinned, regaining some of his boyish charm.

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He'd always admired the town's persistence in keeping up with traditional events, evens which stretched back through the vaults of history. That wasn't to say he enjoyed any of the events they insisted on holding whenever and wherever possible, but he had to give it to the Lockwoods, who ran this town, that for all their faults – which included genetic arrogance – at least they were consistent.

There was no dealing with people who appeared one thing one moment, the next whipping everything you thought you knew about them from under your feet, leaving in their wake a sense of bewilderment and uncertainty.

As he and Rose took a casual stroll amongst the various stalls that were setting up, with nearby shops also taking the opportunity to begin the arduous task of opening up, he planted his lips against her soft hair, moving downwards to sneak a very public nip on the neck, which she protested against with a bark of a laugh by jabbing him in the stomach with her elbow.

"Keep those lips of yours under control," she commanded, fighting more laughter.

A teasing comment rested on the tip of his tongue, but all of a sudden he was aware of this feeling of being watched. Suddenly uneasy, he glanced around, but nobody spared him more than a cursory glance, whereas the feeling he had was of one that someone was actively watching him. His eyes caught sight of someone walking away, their hair swinging behind them, the pace they were walking at too fast to be considered casual, which instantly aroused a certain degree of suspicion, and there was an odd sense of familiarity about her – the long hair was a giveaway, as were the heels she wore - yet without a glance at her face, he had no way of knowing if he really knew her or not.

His heart, however, seemed to be telling him a rather different story altogether. As his head fought to put the clues together based on the brief visual he'd been given, his heart started pumping at a faster rate, as if it was linked to this mysterious stranger.

The tug on his arm, however, was quick to remind him who he was with, so he pushed that feeling to one side, tightening his hold on Rose like she was the only thing keeping him adrift in a stormy sea. She was in her own world too, a lazy smile twisting her lips, and he often wondered how he'd missed seeing her beauty.

_It was because you were head over heels for another girl, you idiot _his brain answered for him.

Ah yes.

It was only a matter of time before Elena crossed his mind again. He kept her away from conscious thought purely because he was terrified of what thinking about her might bring up. Hover too long on the memory of her image, and he might well forget Rose's name by the end of the night. Dwell too much on the memory of her rich lustrous hair, and how soft it felt to the touch, and the touch of Rose's hair might well cause an unpleasant shudder to rattle his body. Linger too long down memory lane, where everything they'd built together still survived in some shape or form, despite the storm which had threatened to tear it all asunder, and he might well stumble while walking with Rose.

Both women were astoundingly beautifully, with Rose having a more defined face, harsher lips that did the claiming, as opposed to his usual methods of assaulting lips in an effort to make them tremble in the power of his kisses; Elena's face, he recalled, was rosier, more rounded, with softer features, lips that could coax an array of sounds from a man's mouth, from intense growls to pitiful mewls, and eyes that could both claim your soul and set you free, depending on what mood the owner of those eyes was in.

God, why was he even comparing them, even in the depths of his own mind where no one could hear him?

Elena was a storm, bound to wreck and destroy lives, while Rose was a harbour, steady and secure, always ready to welcome you back after a long journey. He couldn't think about her anymore. She snuck up on him when he was helpless, bound by slumber, her voice tantalising, her body even more so. He would remember her laugh, and then he would remember that day in court, when their eyes had met across the room, her stony gaze, the way she'd clenched her fists, her skin whiter than paper, and he would remember the rush of doubt that filled his system, that moment where he'd questioned why he was sitting here as stern and bitter as his father and not fighting in her corner, which he'd always done as long as he could remember.

_The sound of mocking laughter would always be the first thing he'd remember about the first time he and Elena met. He was a few years older, a scrawny child with too much hair and eyes so blue his mother had sworn they could put the ocean to shame with their intensity, and so often he'd veered towards making the wrong decisions, being the bad child for no other reason than he could, but that in no way annulled his ability to sense what wrong and right were. _

_ As he combed the playground, searching for areas where mischief could be plucked from the air and turned into full blown chaos for his own amusement, his eyes fell upon a sight which had his stomach doing back-flips on itself. _

_ Two boys were pushing a younger girl between them, her eyes overflowing with tears, her teeth biting down so hard on her bottom lip that it actually drew blood. She was clad in pigtails, wearing a cute yellow summer dress that stopped just past her knees. _

_ Damon had never played the hero in his life, but he found himself surging forwards, shoving both of the boys off of her. _

_ "Why'd you do that for?" they immediately growled as one. "We were only having fun, weren't we, Elena? Tell him we were only having fun."_

_ "Didn't look like fun to me," he replied coolly. "Looked like you were playing rough with a little girl. Maybe it was fun for you, but here's a tip for you – the moment a girl says stop, you stop. If she starts to cry, you stop. If she makes any sign that she doesn't like what you're doing, you stop. Any idiot with a brain knows that, so I guess that makes you two the stupidest people on the planet."_

_ They were heavy set kids as well, with scrunched up faces that made them look as though they were constantly trying to figure out a difficult puzzle. Why they were picking on a girl, instead of each other, Damon would never understand but his mother had at least taught him basic manners, even if she couldn't iron out his wild personality altogether._

_ "We're just playing," one of the boys said stubbornly._

_ "Baby Elena just can't handle it, right?" the other said, pinching Elena sharply, to which she responded by curling her hand into a fist and punching him straight in the mouth._

_ Instantly, as if the blow had been felt by both of them, the boys recoiled, wearing twin expressions of shock, the one she hadn't punched stepping forward after a moment to avenge the misdeed cast upon his friend, but Damon swiftly stepped in, grabbing his shirt, scowling heavily. _

_ "Make her cry again, or cause her unhappiness of any kind, and I will make your life hell," he promised. "Now get out of here before I finish what she started!"_

_ Sullenly, sensing a losing battle on their hands, the boys scarpered, throwing bitter glances at the pair of them as they ran away. _

_ "You okay?" Damon asked, kneeling so he was level with Elena, who looked at him in a remarkably cool way given the fact he'd just saved her._

_ "I can look after myself," she said obstinately. "Those boys were just being mean, but I was about to teach them a lesson. You didn't need to help."_

_ He cocked an eyebrow._

_ "Really? 'Cause you looked terrified to me," he said sarcastically. "Aside from that nice punch you threw, it didn't look like you were about to teach 'em a lesson."_

_ She raised her head defiantly._

_ "Only 'cause they were two of 'em. Wasn't a fair fight."_

_ "You're secretly a little tiger, aren't you?" he laughed, ruffling her hair. "Why didn't you fight back?"_

_ "'Cause I talk brave, but I'm not s'posed to fight," she admitted. "I get in trouble for it at home."_

_ "You fight at home?" Damon couldn't hide the surprise – or delight – at finding out there was more to her than met the eye. "Who do you fight?" He pretended to box her, making sure he didn't actually hit her. "Your dad? Your mom?" He pretended to look terrified. "Are they still alive?"_

_ Elena looked cross, but a hint of a smile played with her lips._

_ "Nooooo. I have a kid brother," she said coyly. "And he's a brat."_

_ "So you beat him up?" Damon looked mock disappointed. "It's always the quiet ones you have to watch out for..."_

_ "Shut up." She nudged him playfully. "I don't mean to hit him. I just... I lose my temper a lot. My mom says I'm a nightmare, but I'm her little nightmare. I don't know what means."_

_ "It means you're a pain, but she loves you. Kinda see her point to be fair."_

_ Elena glared at him._

_ "You're mean," she accused. _

_ "I'm only mean to the people I care about," he corrected. "Everyone else isn't worth my time."_

_ She looked confused._

_ "So... does this mean we're friends now?" she wondered aloud. "Daddy said the first time I came home with a boyfriend, I was in serious trouble." _

_ He fought the urge to laugh because she looked genuinely concerned by this, which told him despite her little tigress attitude, she very much loved her family and didn't want to cause anyone any trouble. He could relate to that in a weird sort of way, only he ended up causing trouble all the same, just because it was all he knew how to do anymore._

_ "Just say I'm a friend then," he suggested. "You know the word 'boyfriend' has a different meaning when you're a grown up, right?"_

_ "What does it mean?" she asked, curiosity piqued._

_ He sighed, so not ready to have that conversation just yet._

_ "Nothing." He playfully tweaked her nose. "Mind your business, oh warrior princess, and you shall learn in good time."He glanced at her, suddenly curious. "How old are you exactly?"_

_ She held her head up, proud and defiant in equal parts._

_ "Seven," she declared. "You?"_

_ "Ten."_

_ "And what's your name?"_

_ "I'm Damon."_

_ "It's kinda creepy that you're hanging around a little girl, Damon," she teased good-naturedly. "Don't you have other friends to play with?"_

_ "You're the first one I've ever had," he said simply. "So no, I don't."_

_ He waited for the pitiful look everyone always seemed to give him when he confessed that fact. It wasn't like he chose to be alone, but people always seemed wary of him, too keen to believe in the wild front he presented than to try and see if there was anything deeper they could connect with. Elena, however, chose to surprise him again._

_ She slipped her hand quietly in his, beaming up at him with almost a full set of teeth, the one glaring gap winking up at him in an endearing manner._

_ "I'm gonna be the best first friend you ever had," she promised._

_ He smiled and, for the first time, it felt genuine._

Damon shook himself out of his daydream.

It was more than possible Elena could've been released, and that it was her figure which had gripped his attention, but to give in to that yearning which, remarkably, his soul still seemed to possess would be more self-destructive than he could possibly imagine. He only spoke to one member of his family because of her, and now, because of his own actions, that age old need to protect her, he'd possibly lost contact with that last family member too.

He'd once been proud of his dysfunctional family, having quickly grown out of his wild years and soon realising he had a pretty good life. His mother, a graceful figure with eyes that could cut you, should you so much as cast a shadow on any member of her family, was always protective of him, always shielded him from his father's various tirades, stood up for him when he needed someone fighting in his corner, and was the woman who'd taught him to be a man – that lesson had never come from his father. Then he had Stefan, his brother, who from the moment he could walk had chosen to follow Damon around like a lost puppy, clinging to him, emulating him to the point where it got frustrating. The hero worship act wasn't something Damon had ever been comfortable with, because he'd never been a hero, never been anything to be particularly proud of, and he'd always accepted that fact. But he couldn't deny the rush he got at seeing Stefan's broad smile whenever he'd walked through the door after school, his younger brother practically tripping on his heels to get to him.

At one point, Stefan and his mother had been his biggest supporters – now, thanks to that debacle with Elena, they were cut off from him, characters in a play he wasn't sure he'd really been a part of. He missed them, but pride on both sides prevented either of them from making a move towards reconciliation. It was sad, but that was life.

"You okay?" Rose asked, stopping to study him, one hand tracing his features with a tenderness that suddenly felt foreign to him. "I feel like you're not entirely with me today."

"I'm fine," he gritted out, "just tired."

She didn't appear convinced but she let the matter go, entwining her hand with his as they continued walking.

It was a simple enough gesture, but it set Damon's mind racing back to a simpler time, back when he'd belonged to another, when a classic case of bullying enraged him to the point where, regardless of his age, he'd contemplated beating the hell out of his own peers because their definition of fun had revolved around tormenting an innocent girl. Even today, with a temperamental nature, and a fuse that could snap with the smallest of triggers, he couldn't abide brutes who tried to exert their power over women. There were certain things you didn't let slide, and bullies of any description fitted into that category. It went some way into explaining how he spent most of high school in the principal's office for beating up assholes who thought it would be fun to spend their time preying on those who couldn't stand up for themselves, simply because they thrived on power.

A psychologist might've said this all stemmed from his frustration at the power imbalance between him and his father, that his need to intervene with bullies was a textbook case of a victim trying to save others when he couldn't save himself, but he knew that was a load of bullshit.

Fact of the matter was he hadn't stopped a fight before Elena came along – he'd only initiated them. Ever since he'd saved Elena, she'd awoken this need in him to be the hero she saw in him, he wanted to prove that he could be the good guy while still retaining his charismatic and untameable nature, and when it appeared that his vision of her was merely an illusion, a picture of innocence easily corrupted, it broke something in him, and he realised a cold truth that shook him to the core.

All this time he'd believed she'd been looking for a hero in him, but it was the opposite way round.

He'd been looking for a hero in her.

And it had all started when she'd slipped her slender hand through his, promising to be his best first friend ever.

My, how things changed...

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A/n: I'm not going to focus many chapters on Damon, but the ones that do will be poignant chapters, chapters that explain what drives this version of him in this particular universe. I'm enjoying writing the flashbacks though, got to admit. They're easier to write than the main plot for some reason. Elena and Damon will have their first interaction next chapter though, so look forward to that. Each chapter title is inspired by a lyric from songs played throughout the show, so if you haven't noticed it's a fun bit of trivia for you. I'll try and post the next chapter as soon as I can. Thank you all for reading and reviewing.


	5. You're In My Veins (I Can't Get You Out)

Guilty Until Proven Innocent

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Summary: Recently released from prison for a crime she didn't commit, Elena returns to Mystic Falls to clear her name to the people who matter, one of whom includes a blue eyed, raven haired man who once stole her heart, but will he listen to her after believing for two years she was the sole reason his family fell apart? DE. Angst aplenty.

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Chapter 5

You're In My Veins And I Cannot Get You Out

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Swiftly navigating her way out of the town square, Elena found herself scurrying down various alleyways and connecting side streets in an effort to avoid Damon, because apparently despite her pent up anger and frustration she just wasn't ready for that confrontation just yet. She remembered every detail of this town like it was a tattoo on the back of her hand. When you grew up in a town as small as Mystic Falls, you got to know every road, every street, every good hiding place (to elude authority in some cases, in others to avoid certain people), and she was both relieved and depressed to learn that it all had stayed with her.

Then again, when you had nothing but time on your hands, wouldn't you spend your moments focusing on trivial details that didn't matter, just for the distraction? In her mind, she'd spent countless hours memorising each street, and which families lived there. Believe it or not, idle thoughts focused on her town had been what had kept her sane most of the time. One bad moment could change a lot about the way you thought about something – a place, a person, a community – but it could never change the memories you'd made.

She walked faster and faster, aware she was trying to outrun what she'd set out to confront, but she couldn't stop herself. Her head was down, each breath catching in her throat, almost choking her, and it was because she was in this position that she couldn't avoid crashing into someone just as she'd turned out of a side street and back onto a main road.

Her head flew up, a gasp escaping her lips, an instant apology flying to the tip of her tongue, but that was all stifled when she saw who she'd ran into.

"My apologies," came the smooth voice of a man she might well have fantasised about, long before Damon came onto the scene.

Dressed in a stone grey suit, a man of about thirty years stood in front of her, a small smile that could've easily doubled as a smirk twisting his lips. His hair wasn't styled, but it looked classy, a strand of hair falling across his eyes in a very strange fringe style. There was almost a worldly air about him, like he'd been almost everywhere, bringing only stories back as souvenirs from his travels. His eyes were dark, unfathomably so, but they gave off an almost indistinguishable twinkle which at least told her she wasn't going to get a severe lecture for running into her.

The fact she'd never seen this man before in her life also told her she might just have run into one of her new neighbours, and a hideous blush coated her cheeks as a result.

"No, it was my fault. I wasn't looking where I was going," she corrected. "I'm so sorry."

"Nevertheless, I should've heard you coming." He appraised her with a cool glance. "I don't believe I've had the pleasure of meeting you. I'm Elijah."

He reached out a hand, and after a pause she took it, shaking it briefly.

"I'm Elena," she replied, suddenly conscious of her flushed complexion.

"Jenna's niece by any chance?"

"Yes," she said, with a soft chuckle. "You must be my new neighbour."

"Yes, Jenna was a little cagey on the details as to your whereabouts, but she insisted she would formally introduce us the moment you got back into town," Elijah replied smoothly. "My siblings and I have only been residents of this quaint town for a matter of days, but we've already received a warm reception."

"That's because you're the town's newest buzz."

"I'm sorry?"

She smiled.

"It means you're the latest talk of the town," she explained. "This town runs on gossip, don't you know?"

"I didn't until just now," he replied, smiling. "I hope whatever business took you out of town is not a reason that takes you away now I've finally had the pleasure of being acquainted with you."

_Is he flirting with me?_ she asked herself, unable to detach her jumbled thoughts from her rational ones, panic and confusion orbiting around her mind. He was handsome, there was no doubt about it, but interactions like this, the kind where two strangers meet and form an instant connection, just didn't happen to her. When she and Damon had met, it was a damsel in distress kind of deal, although she'd made sure to point out that she was more than capable of handling herself. This meet-on-a-corner-and-fall-madly-in-love scenario made no plausible sense on paper or on screen, yet something kept her standing there, gawping up at him, her heart hardened from a past betrayal yet her reactions still very much switched to awkward teenage girl mode.

"I have no reason for leaving just yet," she eventually replied, settling on a half truth, not exactly nervous about Elijah learning about where she'd been the past two years but understanding that there were certain things you didn't reveal to a complete stranger within the confinements of a first meeting.

"Forgive me for being forward," Elijah spoke, dulcet tones gracing his voice in a way that felt like music to the ears. "Jenna just told me so much about you, and the vision I see before more than matches the charming description she gave of you."

The compliment fell flat on her ears.

She'd never been described as charming before. Even before all this nasty business had dragged her name through the mud, she'd made sure the town had known that there was another layer to her good girl facade which almost negated it. Damon had seen it and had quickly embraced it, and her friends had more often than not encouraged its appearance. She was quick to adapt to any situation, able to distort her personality to accommodate whatever environment she was in, but no more.

She was done being a people pleaser. Whatever side of her was on display people just had to accept was a part of who she was. If they didn't like it, tough, because people weren't just a collaboration of two different shades, light and dark, capable of anything depending which desires they acted on; they were a spectrum of colours of varying degrees of shade, ultimately defined by the intentions behind their actions, not the actions themselves.

Elena made up some excuse and backtracked, realising if he found her impolite, it would give him good enough reason to stay away. She didn't need another man interested in her heart, because chances were he would only break it. Men tended to be drawn to the aesthetically pleasing part of her – the warm eyes, the slender body which curved in the right places, the pinched cheeks tinted with a faint rouge contrasted beautifully against her skin – and once that vision was tainted, they found a reason to run the other way.

This time, her doing the running felt like the necessary course of action to take. She couldn't be doing with making up excuses as to why people looked at her the way they did, or inventing some rich back story to explain why she'd left town. She needed someone to look at her and see the truth, but how many men in this world were willing to look past the figurative stamp of societal rejection to see the still frightened girl whose reputation had been tarnished overnight?

She fled down several abandoned streets, abandoned only because there were current projects renovating the buildings here, and so she found running became a chore when signs littered her path, warning people to stay away.

But since when had she been any good at listening to warnings?

Elena from an early age had been drawn to the bad. She'd never been a teenage rebel, had never done drugs or let herself go down a dark path, but she'd always felt drawn to damaged people, maybe because she had some absurd, outdated idea that she could fix them. Her first boyfriend, Matt, had a sister who frequently went off the rails, who partied hard and crashed harder, and an absentee mom who only stopped home after yet another relationship had crashed and burned, leaving him to pick up more responsibilities than a teenage should ever have had. She'd been drawn far more to the side of him which wanted to lash out and hurt the world for leaving him to fix the scars of his broken household than to the stereotypical boy-next-door facade he wore in front of everyone else. She'd grown up with him, learned to fall in love with him, and had eventually broken up with him when after a tragic summer she just couldn't find the strength to live a life she'd never entirely been happy with in the first place.

Her history explained her relationship with Damon. He'd defied his own expectations and swept in like a dark knight to save her, only to learn she'd possessed strength of her own, and that moment of surprise she'd seen flicker in his eyes had stopped him from walking away from that encounter and forgetting her name. From then on, they'd been inseparable, and though he'd been far from happy about her relationship with Matt, he'd supported her from the sidelines, though not without throwing in a few jibes regarding Matt's "dull as dishwater" personality – his words, not hers.

She thought about the first time Damon kissed her, and since that kiss had opened up a realm of possibilities for the two of them, she could honestly say she'd never thought about the idea of them until that kiss. Evidently, Damon had, and he'd taken a shot in the dark, a leap of faith, and she'd gone along for the ride, because that's what you did with Damon: you either took the leap with him, or you watched him take the fall for both of you, leaving you on the sidelines regretting the chances you didn't take.

She missed him, missed him more than she could ever say, but you couldn't love someone who hadn't loved you enough to stand by you when it had really counted, and so she'd swallowed the bitter pill of reality, realising even if she could convince Damon she hadn't done what everyone had believed her to have done, it wouldn't change anything. It wouldn't rewrite their history.

Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she just began to realise what she was putting on the line here by coming back. She could've gone to Denver, to stay with family friends who'd ignored the stories they'd heard out of respect to her and her family, but apparently she was a masochist. She'd opted out of taking the better option for a miniscule chance that she could get someone on her side over something that, frankly, didn't matter anymore.

Then again, she'd never been very good at moving on.

_He found her in a matter of minutes, her knees pressed against her chest, her journal resting on top of them, dried tears glistening on her cheeks, her entire demeanour the utter embodiment of misery and despair._

_ She raised her head briefly at the sound of his footsteps, so familiar because of the way he shuffle walked, like he was permanently dragging his way through life, unable to enjoy a single second of it, and then lowered it, ashamed that her misery was on display for all to see. _

_ "How did you find me?" she mumbled, the odd hiccup punctuating her sentences._

_ "This seems to be your new spot these days," Damon noted, his voice gentle, his smile as fragile as her heart seemed to be these days. "Wasn't hard to figure out where you might've run off to."_

_ "New spot, huh?" She considered these words, chuckling morosely. "Did I have an old one?"_

_ "Uh-huh. Right here," he replied, joining her by her parents' graves, immediately pulling her into his arms. _

_ "This is my fault," she wept, falling apart in his embrace. "I'm the one who made them come pick me up. I'm the one who blew off family night to go to some lame party. I'm the one who should be dead, not them."_

_ She started crying, leaning against him, breathing in his scent like it was her favourite fragrance, and clung to his jacket like he was the only solid thing in the entire world. _

_ "Don't you say that," he growled, cupping her face with his hands. "What happened to your parents was an accident, Elena, a terrible accident. You didn't cause this." His voice broke a little during his next words. "You say you should be dead instead of them... I'm not ashamed to admit but every day I wake up feeling fucking glad you're alive instead of them. Because they've lived a good portion of their lives, Elena – I know it still wasn't enough, but they still lived longer lives than you. You have the rest of your life to get over this because you're the strongest person I know. You have the rest of your life to do everything you want, to get everything you want, because that's what your parents would've wanted for you. You can hate me for feeling glad you're alive, but that's the truth. There's no conceivable world I'd want to be a part of without you in it, Elena Gilbert, and I will die with those words tattooed on me if that's what I have to do to convince you of the truth."_

_ Her chest began to shake with the force of the sobs coming out of her body, but she managed to release a smile, and gripped his hands which cupped her face, leaning her forehead against his, moving her entire body just to get closer to his, her journal now on the ground, forgotten._

_ "I love you," she managed to get out, shaking so much that she didn't realise this was a first for them, because up until this point they'd been on a very tentative ride, eager to walk that line between friendship and romance, balancing both concepts perfectly, crossing no lines yet always creating new places to take their relationship so that it felt like a friendship and epic romance rolled into one all the time. _

_ She missed the look on Damon's face the first time she told him she loved him, how a flare lit up his blue eyes, how his crooked smirk evened out into a raw smile, how his hold on her tightened marginally, but she knew in her heart what she was saying was the absolute truth, because what she always had with Damon was undeniable honesty; he was never afraid to say the words which would hurt her, even if he said them with good intentions, and he wasn't afraid to make her cry, even if it was the worst thing in the world to watch her do so. He wasn't afraid to push her to the edge and then stop her from falling at the last possible second, because that was how he got the real Elena out of hiding. She loved him for all the ways he was a perfect boyfriend; she loved him even more for the ways he was the worst. _

_ She raised her head, pressed her lips against his once, and let her head drop so that her forehead then became aligned with his lips. She closed her eyes as he ran his fingers through her hair, their bodies pressed tightly together in a burning embrace, and she felt the misery leave her, if only for a moment._

_ Damon could cause her a hell of a lot of pain sometimes, like in the way he could be so cruel with the words he could throw at her, and sometimes his temper had her flinching, waiting for the moment his fist might miss the wall and hit her instead (he never let it get that far, however, always insisting the day he hit her, even by accident, was the day he walked out of her life for good, because he couldn't stick around knowing he was capable of hurting the love of his life), but he also proved to be an excellent respite from all other sources of pain. He knew how to make her smile when she fell sick, what DVD to put on when she was sad, how to make her laugh when her world turned grey..._

_ She understood why people loved the notion of falling for your best friend – what wasn't to love about the idea of being in love with the one person who knew you better than you knew yourself? It saved having to endure an endless parade of awkward dates in an attempt to get to know one another. Sure, there was a lot more at stake than the average relationship, but what you gained was worth the risk every time._

_ "I love you," she repeated, looking up into his eyes, waiting for him to say the words back, a kind of nervous desperation written across her face. "You aren't saying it back...why?"_

_ "Because I'm savouring hearing the words from you for the first time," he said simply. "And I've been whispering those words into your ear every night we've spent together; you've just not been able to hear me. Also, call me crazy, but exchanging I love yous in a cemetery seems like a bit of a mood killer. Next time try buying me dinner first, honey, okay?"_

_ She laughed, and it was a glorious sound to hear – if slightly out of place – amongst a sea of headstones and flowers in varying stages of life, and he rocked her in his arms, pressing his lips against her hair, wishing he could take her grief from her still young shoulders and carry it on his own. _

_ "We should head back," she said after a while, rubbing her eyes. "I take it people are looking for me?"_

_ "No. I said I was going to look for you and that seemed to be enough for them."_

_ She gave him a strange look._

_ "I've been gone for hours, and they aren't worrying about me? Jenna worries about her own shadow sometimes, and Jeremy is just... well...Jeremy. What did you slip into their food?"_

_ He smirked._

_ "I'm offended you think I had to slip something into their systems to get them to trust that I'd find you and bring you home, Elena. You forget that people know us enough that if I say I'm going to look for you, it means I'm going to find you."_

_ She smiled._

_ "You're amazing."_

_ He puffed out his chest._

_ "Aren't I though?"_

_ She jabbed him with her elbow, rolling her eyes._

_ "You're an idiot."_

_ "Yeah, but I'm your idiot," he pointed out._

_ She pretended to vomit, her eyes shining with amusement, her earlier misery now a mere memory, banished instantly by Damon's presence._

_ "I thought we were beyond the cheesy lines?"_

_ "Eh. If cheesy lines manage to make you smile, guess I can accept my hardcore reputation going down a notch or two."_

_ Elena tried to fight back another smile, but it forced its way to the surface all the same. No matter what mood you tried to keep yourself in, Damon had a way of drawing out your real emotions – good and bad – to the surface so you had to confront them. It was what she loved most about him._

The memories were suffocating, but Elena kept on reliving them, as if her subconscious enjoyed tormenting her. She became so distracted remembering stupid little details that she didn't see where she was going until her body slammed up against something all too familiar.

Her breath caught in her throat long before her warm eyes locked onto his. Some things even your memory couldn't prepare you for, like how his scent – an intoxicating mixture of expensive cologne mingled with traces of bourbon (emitted, naturally, from his baby pink lips) – could hit you like a train going at a million miles an hour, leaving you no other choice but to absorb it. She let her eyes run lazily across his appearance, noting he appeared fiancée-less, yet that didn't stop her entire body screaming that he was taken, and he had that well groomed appearance of a taken man anyway; his usually unkempt hair looked the sort of messy associated with the mess left behind after fingers lazily run their way through individual locks, and his lips carried the remnants of someone's else lipstick, but not in an overly obvious way. He looked ridiculously good; his skin had a healthy glow to it, and faint stubble littered his jaw, all factors contributing to this familiar ache which had nothing to do with her heart and a lot to do with another part of her which had also been left unanswered for a long time.

"Well, well," he said, shock colouring his eyes a moment before he regained himself. "Look who decided to show up again, uninvited."

Anger disfigured her, twisted her features, reminding her that he wasn't someone to win over. She couldn't take his remarks personally (even though they were meant to sting), because this wasn't the Damon she remembered. Not really.

When Damon was hurt, he lashed out, using bitterness to hide the vulnerable side of him which longed to ask _why me? _He believed fiercely in pushing down emotions which threatened to consume, and that was probably to do with his father, who had always been an impassive man with a startling lack of interest in the emotional wellbeing of his sons.

_Why can't you look at me and see our truth, and not the truth everyone else would have you believe?_ she couldn't help but sigh in the confinements of her mind. _Why do rumours discolour characters, turning them into caricatures depicting the ugliest sides of us which simply do not exist?_

"Damon," she managed to get out, aware he still had the power to rob her of breath just by standing there, although she regained a bit of confidence by the lack of emotion she saw on his face.

"You served your time then," he said, in a matter of fact tone that would've matched a conversation about the weather, not about serving time in prison.

"Clearly. I didn't stage a breakout," she retorted.

She might've imagined the ghost of a smile which played on his lips, or maybe it was just wishful thinking.

"I wouldn't try out for the Miss Mystic Falls court if I were you. They have a no felon policy, as I'm sure you remember," he sneered. "It looks like it's coming up to that time of year."

She remembered all too well those days. She'd entered purely because of her mother's memory, and Damon had naturally been her escort, but the days up until the actual event had been her raging about the ridiculous amount of showmanship which went into these events, and he'd listened with amusement as she'd ranted about how Caroline was driving her crazy because she'd taken it all too seriously before holding her tightly and reassuring her he wouldn't think any less of her if she wanted to back down.

_"I can't," _she'd told him with a sigh. _"I'm not one of those girls who enjoy pageants. But my mom was. I feel like I have to do this for her."_

"I remember," she eventually replied to Damon, her tone curt, folding her arms as if trying to physically restrain her heart from bolting out of her chest to join with Damon's. "I heard about Rose – I guess congratulations are in order."

"She's one of the good ones." The smug tone to Damon's voice shattered something inside her; the implication that she hadn't been was heavy, and she almost fell for that lie hook, line and sinker before bringing herself out of that stupor. "She's everything I ever wanted."

"Well, that's bullshit. All you ever wanted was me." It wasn't arrogance, and it wasn't a desperate attempt at winning him back – it was simply the truth. "When was the funeral?"

He actually looked confused. "What funeral?"

"I assume there was a service to mourn the loss of your spine?" she clarified. "You're going to marry someone Daddy finally approves of. The Damon I remember would've shuddered at that idea. That was one of my charms, you know – the fact that your father never seemed to like me. And that was one of your charms – refusing to concede to parental pressure."

"I grew up, Elena. My choices are my own. I love Rose. I'm not marrying her to please anybody. And you don't know me anymore, so you can stop trying to psychoanalyse me. Out of the two of us, which one of us has a clean record, hm? Which one of us is the more trustworthy? We could put it to a vote if you like...?"

"Ah, playing the prison card... how fresh." Elena looked disgusted. "I thought you were better than that."

"I guess both our initial impressions of each other were wrong then," Damon responded coolly.

She felt winded by that remark, even though it was nothing less than she expected.

He was so cold, like an icy gust of wind in the middle of a snowstorm. His eyes were the very blue skin could turn to under such intense fluctuations of freezing temperatures, and there was nothing warm about him. Again, it was nothing she hadn't expected, but seeing him now, in all his Jack Frost glory, it was like someone had ripped her lungs out, with her heart still beating loudly in the background, but without the ability to breathe, the organ might as well have been rendered useless.

Her fingers feebly unclenched, reaching hopelessly in his direction before she snapped herself out of the spell he always seemed to be able to cast over her.

"I didn't do it," she said, and it sounded flat, even to her own ears.

Without a follow up sentence, it sounded like a cliché, something every former convict attempted to convince a former loved one in order to worm their way back into their life, but it was merely a half hearted statement uttered by a woman worn down by life, aware the man she'd once loved would barely bat an eyelash at that remark.

"You keep telling yourself that. Maybe you'll get someone other than yourself to believe it," Damon replied, but his voice was devoid of any emotion, so the remark wasn't particularly made to mock her; he sounded resigned, like he'd spent time trying to convince himself of this truth only to realise it was futile doing so.

He turned on his heels before she could say anything in response.

Elena let out the breath she didn't know she'd been holding.

That could've gone better, she thought to herself.

Then again, it could've gone worse.

Damon Salvatore could elicit nothing but the strongest reactions from her; she either felt gloriously happy with him or completely furious; those were the two extremes. It spoke volumes, however, that right now she could only feel utter distaste for him. Maybe he'd planned to run into her, maybe it was coincidence, but the fact was he'd left with the last word in hand, and the fact that that little habit of his hadn't changed gave her hope that the Damon she remembered wasn't gone forever.

The question was: why did she care?

* * *

A/n: Apologies for the delay in getting this chapter up. Writer's block across all my fics has consumed me for the last few weeks. I've managed to write little bits here and there, but my mind has just not been able to come up with the words I wanted to write, so thank you for your patience. We'll find out more what happened with Elena and Damon in future chapters, but just bear with me as I try and plan out this story better in my head. I'll try and update faster. Thank you for all the reviews


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